Finally: the sixth and final part of this series!! Why did it take almost NINE MONTHS to get this final part up? Because…shut up, that’s why. If you missed any of the first five parts of this series, check them out here, here, here, here, aaaaand here. Oh, and I’ll actually have a brand new post up next week! Don’t believe me? Yeah, I get that. But it’s already written so…
Anyway, hope you enjoyed this series. Thanks for continuing to seductively run your eyeballs up and down these posts. It…pleases me. And a new one next week, for realsies! It’s going to awesome. Pinky swear.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” I hate that saying. Aside from being trite and obnoxiously optimistic, wouldn’t life also need to hook you up with sugar and water in order for you to properly make lemonade? Now if life hooks you up with a canister of Country Time lemonish-flavored drink, you can eat that shit dry by the fistful. I’m holding out for life to give me that.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Do you have ‘LOL’ Tourette’s?
Symptoms:
- An inexplicable need to insert ‘LOL’ at the start and end of every sentence
- Using ‘LOL’ in place of a comma or other punctuation
- Using ‘LOL’ as a standalone response to a picture or statement
- Inserting ‘LOL’ as a stand-in for nervous laughter after sentences because you think others are too stupid to understand they weren’t meant to be interpreted literally
- Using ‘LOL’ as an ironic counterpoint to a statement with which you actually disagree (e.g. – “Standing in long-ass lines at the DMV is ballstastic…LOL!”)
If you suffer from one or more of theses symptoms, there is a cure: just stop it. Seriously.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I dreamt last night that not being able to dance was illegal. I got pulled over by the cops and they demanded I do the Running Man. I was thrown in prison because I was only able to muster a half-assed Cabbage Patch. But it was cool because my cellmate was a talking cat named Marvin. He hooked me up with a peanut butter sandwich and told me not to worry; he’d teach me how to dance before the Big Prison Dance-Off (apparently there was going to be a Big Prison Dance-Off). I woke up laughing, which isn’t the worst way to start the day.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________-
I’ve always considered myself a rebel with a track record of following the rules and then complaining about how stupid said rules are. To that end, I’m posting this dossier of things you may not know about me per the “rule” explained to me by Facebook. You see by ‘liking’ this post, I apparently swore a blood oath to post something similar about myself. Still, I’m the most rebellious rule-follower you’ll ever meet. Take that, James Dean.
-In the early ‘80s, Oprah Winfrey came to my home and interviewed me for the local news. (Sadly, I’ve never been able to parlay that fact into a wild sex romp with anyone in the greater Baltimore area, much less Angelina Jolie. It’s never even gotten me a date.)
-Around the same time as the Oprah thing, I starred in a commercial for the American Lung Association. Okay, “starred” may be too strong a word. More like I lingered in the foreground and tried not to make eye contact with the camera while former Orioles player and coach, Elrod Hendricks, talked about the ALA. My performance was sublime.
-Even though I’m not a stuntman, I’ve been in more car accidents than Evel Knievel, some of which weren’t even my fault. To date, I’ve walked away from them all with varying degrees of minor-ish injuries. My insurance company offered to lower my premiums if I install a roll cage in my car.
-I’ve seen both a ghost and a UFO. Not at the same time, though; that would just be silly. I don’t talk about either very much because I’m highly allergic to self-righteous smirks.
-It took me 9 years to obtain my undergrad degree. You read that right. I skipped multiple semesters in between bouts of casual attendance before buckling down and graduating summa cum laude. To justify my 9-years of college I’ve often considered changing my first name to “Doctor” & middle name to “Michael” to force people to call me “Doctor Michael Brennan.” I may still do that.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Things for which I am thankful:
-Dudes named Lenny or Gary
-Gobstoppers
-The word, “obsequious” (just a lot of fun to say)
-Circus peanuts for being terrible & making me appreciate awesome stuff more
-That one time I saw local sportscaster Keith Mills stumbling out of The Barn on Harford Rd
-Shiny things
-Velvet underwear (do they even exist? I don’t know, but just thinking about them makes me happy)
-Parachute pants (so grateful to be alive when they were popular)
-Men (and sadly some women) who still proudly rock mullets
-People who don’t take themselves or life too seriously. It’s all so very amusing. Enjoy it.
-Wolverines for just biting the shit out of everything despite being so small
-My friends and family for tolerating me. You guys are pretty great.
-Oh, and patchy, white trash mustaches. Love those.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
If I wanted to, could I own a porpoise? I totally have a bathtub and canned tuna so I’m pretty sure I have everything it would ever need. I’d pet and feed him every day and I’d name him Randy. The only obstacle to porpoise ownership is actually obtaining the porpoise. Can you just pluck one from the sea or do you need to have a porpoise guy? I just think – no, I know – my life would be so much better with a porpoise in it. Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. You guys are all right.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Got mad at 2 people today & thought to myself, “Does that make me bi-furious?” Then I laughed & forgot why I was angry. Swear I’m not high.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
All right, help me out here: at the end of The Goonies, Mikey has a small bag filled with precious stones. That’s all he was able to salvage from One-Eyed Willie’s (tee-hee!) ship. What do you suppose the market value of those stones was circa 1985? $100k? $200k? More? Let’s be generous and say the value was a million dollars. The entire neighborhood was being foreclosed on – we’re talking dozens of houses here. So there is no way in hell that wee bag of jewels saved The Goonies’ homes, right? Is that why they never made a Goonies 2? Because all of the kids were living in different towns spread across some depressing state like Iowa or something like that? I can’t be the only one who thinks about this shit.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On the way back from lunch I saw a van with 2 large cobra decals covering the back windows. At first I got super excited because, you know, cobras, but then I got really sad. You see, NOTHING I own has snakes of any kind emblazoned upon it, much less cobras. This dude (or perhaps ladydude – take that sexism) is far more awesome than I could ever hope to be. And just like that my life no longer makes sense.
Leave a Reply